“All right, let’s begin,” Zen said.

The women in the circle began swaying, chanting. Candlelight flickered in my peripheral vision. The drums picked up tempo, the rhythm pulsing through the floor and up through me, into my chest.

“Close your eyes and breathe deeply,” Zen said.

With one last look at Adam, I allowed my lids to drift closed. My breath came in on long, slow inhales. The scent of herb-infused smoke spiced the air. It filled my belly, rounding it, before I pushed it back up and out to the count of five.

The hair on the back of my neck tingled, signaling a rise of power. Unlike a magical circle cast to protect or bind those inside it, this one felt more like a door had opened. Air rushed through the room, bringing with it the scents of rich soil, black iron, fresh blood— the perfume of the underworld.

“Keep breathing. Focus. See Maisie’s face, call to her.” Zen’s voice rose above the increasingly frenetic chants of her comrades.

I blocked out everything but the whoosh of air into my nose. The deep, vibrating rush of exhalation. Maisie’s image appeared in my mind. She wore ceremonial robes: the traditional Greek chiton she wore for Hekate Council meetings and rituals. Her red-and-black hair was pulled back into an elegant chignon at the nape of her neck.

Maisie? Can you hear me?

A few more breaths. The vision in my head smiled and beckoned me with a raised hand. A faint sensation tickled the edge of my brain. My pulse quickened, but I kept my breathing even.

Maisie, show me where you are. Help me find you.

My body swayed in circles, like a compass trying to find true north. In my head, the image of Maisie shifted, morphed. Now her hair stuck out wildly around her head. Smudges of dirt and blood marred her face, her chiton. I knew on some level I was now seeing Maisie as she was the night Lavinia took her. The specter in my head raised a hand, beckoning me to follow.

A deep hum pulsed through me, tugged gently at my cells. The image in my head wavered. I knew if I surrendered I’d lose her for good. My breaths were incredibly deep now, and after the next exhalation, I released my soul to the air. A faint pop , a contraction. And then, like mist, I rose from my body.

I looked around, through the iridescent shimmer of the portal, and saw my body surrounded by a deep red aura. Adam still sat across from me, his eyes open and staring intently at my absolutely still form. His aura glowed dark blue shot through with tendrils of gold. Where our hands met, our energies combined and rose in sparkling ribbons of deep purple and gold.

All around us, bodies undulated in hypnotic movements, their mouths moving in sync as they chanted and their auras flashing every color of the rainbow. Zen’s energy ring stood out among the hues, a flashy silver. And in the corner, a halo of golden saffron hugged Rhea’s body.

Sound was different now. The chants and drums reached my ears slowly, distorted as if filtered through water.

Sabina.

The weak call gained my full attention. I lifted my face and flew upward until the ceiling gave way to starry night sky.

When I was young, I always wished I could fly. I dreamt of taking wing over cities and fields and oceans. I prayed to the Great Mother Lilith to help me soar away from the life I’d been born into. Eventually, time passed and I grew resigned to never knowing that kind of liberation.

But right then, as my spirit rose high above Bourbon Street, yearning for the thin sliver of moon, I knew real freedom. Far below, miniature costumed humans celebrated and danced alongside colorful floats. Tiny orange lights dotted the cityscape— pumpkins set out for mortal trick-or-treat rituals. Beyond the city lights, the dark waters of the Mississippi beckoned me with their secrets. Something niggled at the back of my consciousness. Some preoccupation I couldn’t quite recall.

Pushing the urge to remember aside, I flew. Flew so fast the world ceased to be more than streaks of color. I spun and weaved through the air, separated from mundane sensation by a whisper-thin sheet of shimmering magic. Unlike the times I traveled magically in my body, no cold wind froze me now. No vertigo unsettled me. Instead, the air was calm and warm. I felt centered and at peace. No pain could reach me here.

I’m not sure how long I simply indulged my desire to soar, but soon a deep, nagging awareness caught my attention. Like a muted pounding on a thick door. Or drums pulsating in my chest.

To the northwest, a pixel of light throbbed in time to the sound. Drew me to it like a magnet. Almost as soon as I set my thoughts on discovering the source of the light, I flew toward it, as if thought alone had willed me toward the destination. And when I saw the patch of green punctuated with rectangles of gray, my purpose rushed back to me.

Maisie.

I looked around, trying to recognize landmarks or signposts that might clue me in to the location. Just beyond the cemetery was a large expense of green space— a park? Spotlights swung wildly through a canyon formed between tall oaks. Thousands of tiny human shapes undulated far below to music I couldn’t hear. But if I had to guess, the song sounded a lot like rusty nails and bitterness. Ironic that we’d been so close to this cemetery just a few short hours earlier.

Pulling my thoughts from Erron Zorn and missed opportunities, I focused on taking note of landmarks. At the far end of the cemetery, a large stone building capped with a colorful dome loomed. A major road ran in front of the building, while residential streets bordered the three remaining sides of the cemetery.

The light below tugged at me, drawing me down toward the earth. My spectral feet touched grass, but the sheet of magic kept me from registering any sensation. Now the vaults I’d viewed from above rose above me. And straight ahead, as if someone had held a black light to a splotch of white paint, my sister’s blood glowed brightly on a slab of stone.

More a box than a tomb, the structure rose only to hip height. Just large enough to accommodate a single coffin.

Until that moment, I’d held out hope that we’d been wrong. That even Lavinia wasn’t sadistic enough to imprison Maisie in a crypt. But now I understood my grandmother’s cruelty knew no bounds.

Instead of running, my feet swished just above the ground as I moved swiftly toward the light’s source. Finally, I stood before the tomb and reached out with my transparent hands. Only instead of grasping the stone, they passed through it. I tried again, focusing this time. Still useless.

I cried out. “Maisie!”

I bent over the tomb and listened. Called out again. No response. Then I realized that if my hands had passed through the solid form, then maybe my voice also passed through visceral reality. Like a ghost.

If I’d been in my corporeal from, my chest would have tightened with pain. To be so close to Maisie yet unable to free her was torture. Since I couldn’t cry from the pain of it, my spirit contracted, grew heavier.

“Maisie,” I said, my face bent over the lid. “We’re coming for you. Please be strong.”

“She can’t hear you.”

I reared up and spun. Out of instinct, my hand reached for a weapon that wasn’t there. An orb floated several feet away, pulsating hotly. Every instinct in my body told me to turn and get as far away from it as quickly as possible. I tensed for flight when it spoke again.

“You’ve never been a coward. Why start now?”

My heart turned to ice, and my feet suddenly felt encased in concrete. Slowly, knowing beyond reason I hadn’t imagined the familiar voice, I turned. Instead of the radiant orb, the silhouette of a man materialized.

He leaned against the wall of a crypt. I say leaned, but he was far from solid. His body shimmered with translucence, but I would have recognized that frown anywhere.

“David?” I breathed.

“What’s wrong, Sabina? Aren’t you happy to see me again?”

I’ve seen lots of fucked-up shit in my life. Hard not to when one spent the majority of their life killing for a living. Of course, since my family tree is filled with vampires and mages, and one of my best friends is a demon, one might also imagine running into a ghost wouldn’t be a big deal. But considering this particular specter was the ghost of a friend I’d murdered, I was having some trouble not pissing myself, metaphorically speaking.

“David?” I repeated stupidly.

He spread his arms wide. “In the flesh, so to speak.”

Thinking was like wading through oatmeal. I looked around for some sort of clue about what I was supposed to say or do. But the silent crypts weren’t offering up any etiquette tips. “How? Why?”

The apparition crossed his arms. “The how doesn’t matter. Not really.”

“And the why?” My voice sounded thick.

A smile quirked the corner of his lips— an odd sight on a nearly transparent man. “Before I tell you why I’m here, we need to get a few things straight.”

“I’m listening.”

He moved closer. His legs didn’t move, though. His body just kind of glided above the grass. I clenched my jaw against the instinct to run again. Then I remembered I wasn’t in my body and my astral form probably looked a lot like his right then. He finally stopped a couple of feet away.

“First, you need to know I am not here because I want to be. You’re the last person I’d be helping if I had a choice.”

Not a surprise, really. I swallowed the fear clogging my throat and nodded.

“And don’t ask who sent me. You wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

I might be confused and shocked, but I wasn’t an idiot. “Tell me anyway. Just for kicks.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “She said you’d demand to know.” He shrugged in a suit-yourself gesture. “Lilith sends her regards.”

My mouth fell open, but he continued on as if he hadn’t just dropped an epic bombshell on my ass.

“Second, this is really happening. Your sister is inside that box.”

“Wait a second,” I interrupted. “Lilith sent you?”

He nodded impatiently in a yes-we’ve-covered-this way.

“Why?”

He rolled his eyes. “Sabina, she’s the Queen of Irkalla. We don’t question her motives without serious repercussions.”